


Lonely Boy

by Zandra_Court



Series: Agent Hotpants Series [1]
Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: First Time, M/M, Male Slash, Post Sweet Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-23
Updated: 2012-03-23
Packaged: 2017-11-02 10:28:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zandra_Court/pseuds/Zandra_Court
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starsky & Hutch are tapped by the FBI to bring down a child smuggling ring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lonely Boy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SPowell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPowell/gifts).



“How you likin’ the view there Sergeant Hutchinson?” Detective Joan Meredith’s voice came over the radio as Starsky sat in his red Torino across the street from the corner Mer and Hutch had chosen for this particular op.

He’d watched as Mer had bent over at the waist, pretending to adjust her fishnet stockings, causing her already short skirt to rise up and reveal the firm, rounded edges of her ass. She’d noticed Hutch staring at her from his post against the streetlamp and had spoken into her wire. Hutch couldn’t hear her, but Starsky knew what she was getting at. Hutch was supposed to be under as a gay hustler. Getting caught looking at Mer’s ass, fine as it was, was gonna get him blown, and not in the way they were trying to set up.

 _Well then, stop taunting the man you saucy wench_ Starsk thought to himself.

He and Hutch had used Detective Meredith in every prostitution sting they’d run since Starsky had been forced to partner with her on a case while Hutch recovered from a bullet to the chest. They both liked her sassy attitude, her street smarts and the fact that she gave as good as she got. They’d come to see her as one of the boys. 

He’d never told Hutch about makin’ it with Mer. In fact, when he’d tried to talk to her about it in the weeks after Hutch’s return to duty, she just smiled at him and said, “We both know I ain’t your love, Cowboy. Your partner was in pain and I was the balm for your weary soul. It don’t got to be any more complicated than that. I’m at peace with it. You should be too.”

Part of what made hanging out with Mer so fun was that she never flirted with them. She flirted with Huggy tons, but not them. He obviously knew from experience that it wasn’t because she had a problem with white guys. Hell, she’d flirted with him plenty while Hutch was in the hospital. But once Hutch was back with him, she stopped.

“The fucking Tomato is driving away my customers.” Hutch’s voice came over the radio this time, snapping Starsky out of his mental wanderings. He looked across the street to his partner, who was wearing Starsky’s favorite pair of denim cut-offs, a loud, pink silk shirt buttoned only at his navel and the biggest sunglasses they could find at the drugstore. Starsky raised his hand up, using just his middle finger to scratch his left temple.

“I’ll shove that finger up your ass if you don’t watch it, Partner.” Hutch spoke softly into his wire. “I’m way too pretty to have been out here for 45 minutes without a single offer.”

Starsky glanced toward him, pursing his lips into a kiss and then spread his left hand wide and patted the outside of his car door three times.

“C’mon Starsk.” Hutch pleaded quietly. “We don’t have to stay out the full hour. Even Mer’s not getting any tricks. Let’s just call it.”

Starsky patted his open hand on the car door four times and looked over directly at his partner.

“If you fuckin’ make us stay out here 20 more minutes, I’m going to kick your ass.”

Starsky pursed his lips into another kiss.

“I said ‘kick’ your ass, not ‘kiss’ it.” Hutch growled as his partner just laughed.

Thirty minutes later, they were cruising fast along the Boulevard after having dropped Mer at her place. Hutch was still in his gigolo outfit, and Starsky was marveling at how it fit his partner somehow. The pink shirt made his hair look blonder and his skin more tan. Glancing down, he saw how high up on Hutch’s thighs his shorts rode. When Starsky wore them it didn’t seem that they went up as high, but his partner did have longer legs than he did. 

“Enjoying what you see there, Starsk?” Hutch teased.

“What? Huh?” He snapped his eyes up so fast, he almost heard them move.

“You wantin’ a piece of candy?” Hutch drawled in his most effeminate voice. The one he used when he was undercover as a gay man.

Starsky knew Hutch was just taunting him like always, but he found his dick getting hard, despite the fairy-voice that he hated. Hutch’s low timbers were like music in his ears and anything else just annoyed him.

“Knock it off.” Starsky growled as he re-focused on the road.

“Oh come on now, Grumpy, and let Tyrone work away all your troubles” Hutch persisted, turning towards Starsk, running his hand down the billowing silk and stopping at his own groin. Starsk glanced at his partner just as Hutch pushed his hand tight against the denim shorts, causing his cock to thrust up. Starsky couldn’t tell if Hutch was hard or if the movement just made it look like he was. Either way, Starsky was growing thicker now and praying Hutch couldn’t tell.

“Tyrone can make all your dreams come true.” Hutch laid his arm across the seat-back and started to twirl one of Starsky’s curls by his ear. 

It was too much and Starsky grabbed Hutch’s wrist and twisted.

“I said to knock it off!”

“Jesus-fuck Starsk!” Hutch yelled in his normal voice, yanking his wrist from Starsky’s grip. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Immediately, Starsky felt bad. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt ya?”

Hutch rubbed his wrist. “Not really,” he lied. “But why did you try to?”

“I didn’t.” Even to his own ears, this sounded weak.

“It’s OK Starsk” Hutch kept rubbing his wrist. “I guess I went a bit far.”

 _You didn’t go far enough._ The thought caught in Starsky’s head, even as he tried to ignore it.

“I don’t know. This assignment’s wrapping me up. I just want it to be over. I’ve never liked busting johns anyway. Long as they ain’t beating on their hookers, who cares if they pay for it?”

“Sex trade isn’t all about sex, Starsk and you know it. Girls get trapped in it, junkies get abused and killed, plus it just makes the streets look bad.”

“I know, I know. I don’t mean it’s all OK. It’s just these stings are the most boring we pull.”

“Well, I wasn’t lying about the Tomato y’know. There isn’t a pimp or junkie out there that doesn’t know this car.”

Hutch had a point, much as he hated to admit it. But since it wasn’t his dick they were peddling, that meant sitting in Hutch’s car for the sting and that was almost worse than boredom.

“Alright, we’ll take your car tomorrow. For now, let’s get you home and out of my shorts.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Hutch said daringly. He’d dropped the fem-voice, so Starsky just gave him a look and then laughed.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, they were sitting at their desks, talking about which street they were going to try. Detective Meredith had to be in court on another case, so they were going to try just the gigolo angle today. Since Hutch’d need closer back-up, they’d decided that Starsky would act as his pimp for the day.

“Starsky! Hutchinson! Get in here!” Captain Dobey’s voice echoed through the squad room and they looked at each other.

“Ya ever feel like a cocker spaniel when he does that?” Starsky asked as he stood up and turned his chair back around and tucked it under his desk.

“All the damn time.” Hutch agreed as he followed his partner into the small, but neatly organized office.

“What is it Cap’n?” Starsk asked as he plopped down in one of the chairs. Hutch noticed the tall man in the corner seconds before his partner. He watched as Starsky put his feet up on the desk. Hutch knew his friend was feigning a casual pose to compensate for the fact that he’d missed noticing the man’s presence. It was a minor screw-up, but one Hutch would talk to him about later.

“This is Special Agent Carlson, FBI. Agent Carlson, this is Detective Sergeant Dave Starsky and Detective Sergeant Ken Hutchinson.” Each man had waved to the agent in the corner as their name was spoken, but they looked at each other and not the fed.

 _What the fuck is this?_ Starsky’s eyes said.

 _Hell if I know._ Came his partner’s look of reply.

Hutch sat down. They both hated that the fed was standing behind them, but neither was going to give any ground by turning around. They sat, looking at their Captain, as if he was the only one in the room.

Dobey seemed to know what they were doing, so he looked up at the man leaning against the wall. “Well, Agent Carlson. If you want their help, you’re gonna have to brief them.”

Special Agent Carlson didn’t say anything for another moment before deciding that giving a little might gain him something in the long run, so he moved around to stand beside the Captain’s desk before he spoke.

“Detectives, I’m investigating a smuggling ring that seems to have shifted its import station from Los Angels to Bay City. Your Captain says you two know the streets here better than any one in your department.”

“What’s the traffic?” Hutch asked.

Agent Carlson laid out some pictures on the desk. They both looked but Starsky had to look away, turning his head towards his partner. Hutch instantly met his gaze and held it sympathetically. 

“Cambodian refugees, aged 12-16. All male.” The photos, clearly taken by some kind of hidden pocket cam, showed the young boys, arms bound, totally naked and standing in front of a crowd of middle-age men, like cattle up for auction.

Dread filled Starsky’s stomach. He hoped he was wrong about what this agent wanted them to do. He could fake just about anything, but not abusing kids. Sensing that Starsky wouldn’t be able to ask the question, Hutch did.

“What is that you want us to do for you Special Agent Carlson?”

“I want you to go under with me as buyers. Most stable owners have twenty-something-year old handlers for the young ponies. You’re both a bit older than is normal, but you look young enough to pass.”

“No.” Starsky spoke quietly, but everyone heard him.

“May I ask why not Sergeant?” Starsky glared at the fed, not wanting to admit a weakness, yet proud of it all the same.

“I can’t make that cover. There’d be no way to mask my disgust.”

There was a fleeting glimmer of admiration in the FBI man’s eyes. “There are few men in the world who could. But your Captain said you were the best undercover team he had. As hard as this is, I can’t stop them without you. They need your help.” Agent Carlson picked up one of the photos and held it in front of Starsky’s face. Hutch reached up and firmly pulled the agent’s arm away.

“Check in with us after roll call tomorrow. OK?” Hutch said as he stood up and looked the agent in the eyes.

Agent Carlson understood and nodded. “Tomorrow, then gentlemen.” He gathered his pictures, said good bye to Dobey and left the office. Their Captain watched his men process what was being asked of them. The conflict was etched on Starsky’s face as Hutch put his hand on his partner’s arm.

“Come on, Starsk. Let’s go.” Starsky rose, trance-like, as Hutch guided him out of the office.

Captain Dobey hoped with all his being that he was making the right decision in letting the FBI conscript his boys for this assignment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You OK?” Hutch asked as he drove them back to his apartment. Starsky had parked the Torino at Venice Place so they could take the LTD in for their sting that never was.

“I don’t know. I fuckin’ hate cases with kids. I really don’t think I can do this. I can fake being gay. But to act like I want some scared twelve-year old boy? I wanna throw up just thinking about it.”

“I’ve been thinking about that. What if we play it as you being my handler?”

“I thought Agent Carlson was gonna be the stable-owner?”

“He would be. But instead of us being equals, you top me. I can hide my feelings on this better than you. So all you’ll have to focus on is acting like you’re attracted to me, not them.”

“Is that how it works?”

“We’ve seen it work with girls. Remember that pimp we took down, the one who referred to his girls as cars? His handler never touched the young ones.”

“Do you think Carlson will go for it?” Starsky wasn’t sure he’d be able to do this, but if there was ever a time to earn his badge, this case would be it.

“I think he wants to end this ring. If this is how we have to play it to make that happen, he won’t have much choice.”

They pulled up behind Venice Place and parked in the tenant lot. Once inside Hutch’s place, Starsky went straight to the fridge and pulled out beers for the two of them. Hutch popped off the caps and took one bottle from Starsky’s hand.

“Y’know, you’ve been so focused on the kids, you haven’t even realized yet what you need to do.”

“Huh?” Starsky had been trying to erase those pictures from his brain and hadn’t even noticed that he’d drained the bottle in seconds, nor that Hutch was even speaking.

Hutch traded bottles with him, tossed the empty and went to get a new bottle for himself.

“It’ll come. Just give it a minute.” Hutch leaned against his counter, taking sips of his beer and pulling his shirt out of his waistband with his left hand. He pushed the bottom of his shirt up a little so he could gently scratch his stomach, watching Starsky’s face. The recognition slowly dawned and Hutch smiled as his partner looked at him. 

“Wow. We’ve never had to play that.”

“I know. We should probably talk about it huh?”

Starsky chugged his second beer in as many minutes. “Yeah, I guess we should.” He moved towards the fridge but Hutch stepped up to block his way.

“No more for now. C’mon Starsk, sit down.” Hutch put his hand on Starsky’s elbow and turned him toward the couch. 

“This really won’t be that different from any other cover,” Hutch sat down next to his partner. “You’re the strong arm and I’m the sweet one. Same as always.”

“How strong do you want me to be? We talking leather and chains?” Starsky was only half joking, but Hutch was happy to see the lightness in his eyes. Working up the cover was some of the most fun they had.

“I don’t think we have to go that far. You will have to be commanding. And you’ll have to seem like you’re in love with me.” Hutch’s eyes sparkled a bit at that and Starsky held them.

“I’ve never even kissed you Blondie and already you’re talking love.”

“I’m great at both.” Starsky was surprised at the flirtatiousness of this answer. His groin was tightening again like it had the other evening. God, why did he ever agree to this assignment?

“Hutch, if we do this, it might take us down paths we’ve never been.” 

“I trust you Starsk.”

“Me too, Alice. Me too.”

“Alice?”

“We’re about to jump down the rabbit hole, Hutch. Seemed appropriate.”

“Heh, yeah.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hutch had called in to Dobey and asked him to direct Agent Carlson to meet at Starsky's house the first morning of the op. It was preferable to walking through the station in their undercover clothes. The two of them got enough razzing without them showing up dressed like this.

Starsky had on a pair of green polyester pants that were a size too small and a loud, silk shirt with flowers on it. Hutch had taken the pair of white shorts he'd bought for their Playboy Island trip and cut the legs so they were even shorter than they had been. He wore a yellow tank-top that he'd found on the ladies rack at Woolworth's, covered by a light blue button down shirt. He'd bought it big enough that he wouldn't have to button it to hide his holster. Starsky's holster was right against his skin under his silk shirt. If it got too hot, Hutch knew he'd start bitching about it. Hutch had encouraged his partner’s outfit because he knew Starsky's sexiest asset was his chest. 

_And that ass_ , Hutch thought to himself.

There was a knock on the door and Hutch went to answer it. As Agent Carlson entered, Hutch’s breathing caught, overwhelmed by what he saw. The older man wore a charcoal grey suit that was so silky it glistened. His dress shirt was a light cream that highlighted the deep purple necktie that somehow made the man's eyes more brilliantly green. He also wore a small diamond earring in his left lobe. As if knowing he was being checked out, the agent flashed a smile that revealed deep dimples on both sides of his mouth. He brushed past Hutch as he walked towards the kitchen were Starsky leaned against the counter, watching the whole scene.

Starsky stared as he waited for Hutch to snap out of it. The look on Hutch's face was starting to piss him off. As if hearing words not spoken, Hutch looked at him and was instantly back to himself.

"Are you two for real?" Agent Carlson asked as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Whadaya mean?" Starsky shifted, turning slightly towards the man.

“I’m a pretty, pretty princess” Hutch joked, using his fem-voice again. The FBI agent groaned.

"We're not entering a Beauty Queen contest at Stonewall here guys. You need to be a bit more authentic. And you!” Carlson pointed at Hutch. “Don’t use that voice around me again. It’s awful.” Starsky hid a quick smile and looked at the Agent with slightly more respect.

“Where's your bedroom?” Starsky's eyes flicked in that direction.

The federal agent strode confidently as if he'd been in this house a thousand times, going right for the closet. Hutch walked over to the see-through shelves that served as one wall of Starsky's bedroom and watched the man rifling through his partner's dresser.

Agent Carlson pulled out the darkest pair of jeans he found and then grabbed a dark-blue silk shirt that Hutch knew Starsky only wore on dates. The man stopped and then looked over at Hutch. “You’re taller than he is huh?” 

Hutch nodded and said, “I can wear some of his stuff though.”

“Hmmm, well for today, you can keep the shorts.” Agent Carlson went back to the closet and pulled out the light blue, long-sleeve shirt he loved on Starsky. “You can wear his windbreaker over the top to hide your piece.” Carlson motioned to the jacket that hung on a hook by the front door.

“You’re having us dress in our regular clothes and talk in our regular ways.” Hutch spoke through the book shelves as Agent Carlson came out to the doorway. “What exactly is going to make us seem gay?”

Special Agent Carlson strode over to Hutch, standing close enough that he could feel the agent’s body heat but not actually touching him. They stared at each other for a moment, when Carlson’s hands came up and gently but firmly cupped Hutch’s face and drew him into a deep kiss.

Starsky started to rush forward but caught himself. Hutch was startled, but in what seemed both slow-motion and way too fast, his body softened and he started to kiss the fed back, bringing his hands up to rest on the man’s waist.

Adrenaline started to pulse in Starsky’s brain. Why wasn’t Hutch stopping this? Why did it look like he was enjoying it? And why did he want to punch Special Agent Carlson so badly? He knew it wasn’t pure anger. He knew what it was, but still wouldn’t admit it. Right now, he just wanted them to stop.

As if on command, Agent Carlson broke the kiss, but held Hutch’s face. “Attitude, Hutchinson. That’s what makes your cover. Be the cover or quit the op.” He dropped his hands, re-taking the strong, commanding aura of an FBI agent and stepped backwards from Hutch, who was still stunned and chagrined for being treated like a dumb rookie who’d never gone under before. He could feel a flush creeping up his face.

Starsky strode over, instinctively wanting to protect his partner and help him save face. He wrapped his arm around Hutch’s waist and drew him close. “C’mon Blintz, let’s go change.” He couldn’t help but give Agent Carlson a look of simmering ire mixed with possession. The FBI man smiled as he watched them go into the bedroom. Starsk heard him say, “Now, you’re doing it right.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night, Starsky, Hutch and Agent Carlson were all hanging out at The Pits. In one day, they’d managed to find a guy who knew a guy who knew another guy who might be able to score them some young-blood. They had gotten into a rhythm with their covers. The FBI man was quite adept at playing stable master and the guys studied him carefully, picking up his terminology and body language.

“So, how long have you two been together?” Carlson asked after Huggy had finally brought their dinners.

“We’ve been partners almost 10 years now.” Starsky said as he reached for the ketchup.

Carlson paused mid-bite. “Um, no offense guys, but no way that’s true. You’re way too green to have been together that long. Are you each other’s first?”

Hutch bristled at being called green. “No, I was with Sergeant Ryan before Starsky.”

“Do you only date cops then?” Carlson asked him as he took a swallow of his beer.

Starsky sputtered his beer all over the table as Hutch grabbed napkins from the dispenser.

“Uh, no. Starsky and I have been *police* partners for almost 10 years. We’re not dating.”

Agent Carlson lowered his burger. “Guys, believe me, no one has to hide it more than a federal agent. But I think I’ve earned enough trust for you to drop it with me.”

Starsky leveled a gaze at Special Agent Carlson. “We ain’t hiding. We’ve never pitched that inning. But you’re saying you have?” This morning’s kiss suddenly had whole new meanings attached.

Carlson held Starsky’s gaze in return. Hutch noticed the similarities between them. Carlson had the same intensity, same ability to speak volumes with just a subtle change of his eyes. He was probably six, maybe eight, years older, starting to grey through the temples of his light brown hair. His green eyes had tiny laugh lines around them, in the same places Hutch knew Starsky would get them in a few years. Watching them, Hutch was drawn in by how good looking Agent Carlson was in addition to the strength and power of his presence. In so many ways, it was like looking at an older version of Starsky.

“Starsk?” Hutch touched his shoulder, trying to break in.

“What?” Starsky still didn’t let his gaze drop. He was pissed that Carlson hadn’t told them this information before they’d started. They’d gone under without knowing a key fact about their partner. That was not something he was OK with. 

And that kiss! The way Hutch had responded. That kiss had been real for both Hutch and Carlson and Starsky now knew it. Hutch’s first kiss, and he’d had to just watch. _Because it wasn’t with me._ “Starsky.” Hutch’s tone was more forceful, which made his partner look at him finally. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“I gotta take a piss.” Starsky shoved himself away from the table and walked back to the bathroom.

“He doesn’t know, does he?” Agent Carlson looked squarely at Hutch.

“About me or about himself?” Hutch saw no point in dancing around the question.

“Both.”

“No. But in truth, it built over time. The years have brought us very close, but there are some things we don’t discuss.”

“Fine. Don’t, until this case is over.”

Hutch had an instant dislike of anyone telling him to not tell Starsky anything. This must have shown on his face because Carlson grabbed his wrist and said, “I mean it Detective. Our cover won’t be worth a plugged nickel if he’s dealing with this too. He’s too volatile and barely holding on with this case as it is.”

“You’re gripping pretty hard there, G-man.” Hutch wasn’t going to flinch, but his wrist was still sore from when Starsky had wrenched on it a few days before. He hadn’t wanted to let on how much it had hurt for Starsky’s sake, so he’d been icing it at night and taking aspirin during the day.

“Sorry.” Carlson’s grip eased, but he still kept hold of Hutch, rubbing his wrist lightly. Hutch enjoyed the touch, but felt self-conscious about it too.

“You understand what I’m saying though. Right, Sergeant?”

“Yeah I do. But I’m not following your orders Agent Carlson. He’s my partner. I know him and you don’t. You’re wrong about what he can handle. Whatever he needs to do to protect us or protect those kids, he’ll do.”

“Well, ain’t we cozy.” Now Hutch flinched. How had Starsk gotten the drop on them? Carlson released his wrist with great intention, as if he’d been planning all along to let go at that exact moment.

“Are we going to have a problem Detective Starsky?” Agent Carlson left his arm on the table, close to Hutch’s, as if daring him to do something about it.

“No, Special Agent Carlson, no problem. I’m a good cop and I never stop an op once it’s going.” He sat, and chose not to resist his desire to lay a hand on Hutch’s thigh.

The agent picked up his burger again. “Good to know, Detective.”

 

After The Pits, Hutch had followed Starsky back to his house, rather than return to Venice Place.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

“He called us green Starsk.”

“We ain’t green. We’re the best undercover unit in Metro.”

“But he wasn’t talkin’ about us as cops. He was talkin’ about us as lovers.”

Starsky gave a short laugh. “Well, in that case, we are green.”

Hutch was standing in front of the wall-shelf that looked into his bedroom. He could see Hutch and his bed in the same glance and his heart sped up. Moving slow, Starsky took steps toward his partner. Hutch backed up at the advance until his back hit the wall. Starsk slid his hand inside his partner’s open shirt and pushed through until his hand was nestled between the heavy weight of the .357 strapped there and the warmth of Hutch’s rib cage. He looked at Hutch’s lips and licked his own.

“That was some kiss this morning Blondie.”

“Uh, yeah, yeah it was.”

The two pairs of blue eyes found each other. In almost a whisper, Starsky said, “Don’t do it again.”

Hutch found himself slightly annoyed, but then thought maybe Starsk was just doing this to prove something about acting this cover well.

“You ordering me as my partner or as my stable manager?”

Starsk leaned back and looked away. He wasn’t sure. He rubbed his left hand over his face, stepping away fully from Hutch now. This op was messing up his head.

“Carlson doesn’t think you can do this, y’know. He thinks your emotions are too out of control to be safe.”

“I would never do anything to compromise you or the op, Hutch! You know that.”

Hutch stayed where he was, watching his partner pace like a caged leopard.

“You wouldn’t mean to, Starsk. But look at you. Right now you’re so tied up you can’t even tell me what you’re really thinking.”

“OK, Brains, what am I thinking? Go ahead, college boy. Enlighten me.”

“You wanted to kiss me just now.”

 _Oh, God, yes!_ screamed Starsky’s inner monologue. Why couldn’t he say as much? Clearly Hutch was open to him doing it. He looked down, shaking his head. “I didn’t wanna suffer from comparison,” his voice droll and deep.

Hutch smiled and walked over to the man he loved more than anyone else in the whole world and wrapped his arms around Starsky’s neck, resting his arms on the shorter man’s shoulders. 

“Why sell yourself short, Starsk? Your talents, are, after all, quite well known.” 

Without missing a beat, Starsky’s hands wrapped around Hutch’s waist, holding him close, like they’d been standing like that for years.

“With girls, sure. I ain’t never kissed a guy before.”

“You make it sound like I have all kinds of experience.”

“Compared to me, you do. I watched it happen.”

“I didn’t ask for it. I’d always thought my first kiss would be from you.”

“Would it make you mad if I told you that until this morning, I hadn’t thought about it much at all?”

“Kissing me?”

“That. And losing you to another guy. I’ve watched you kiss girls lots of times. Never before did it make me feel like watching you kiss that fed. I got scared in a way I’ve only ever felt when you’re lying in a hospital bed.”

“Starsk, I’m right here.”

**Brrrriiiiiiinnnnnggggg.**

Hutch dropped his hands to his waist. “Someone has rotten timing.”

“Yeah, but you’re here Blondie, so who could it be?” Starsky joked, thinking back over all the times Hutch had called or shown up right when he shouldn’t. _Wonder if they were intentional?_

**Brrrriiiiinnnnngggg.**

Starsky stepped away and walked into the kitchen, where the phone hung on the wall.

“This really better be good.” Starsk grumbled into his phone.

“Detective Starsky?” _Fuck_

“Yes, Special Agent Carlson. What can I do for you?” Hutch smiled at the sarcasm that dripped from each word.

“I need to talk to Hutch.”

 _Of course you do._ Starsk held the phone out, letting it dangle from his hand. “He wants you.” _But he can’t fucking have you._

Hutch took the phone and leaned against the sink as he listened. “Yeah?”

“Hutch, our contact called. There is an auction happening in a couple hours. But the contact said only two buyers at a time. Starsky has to stay home.”

Hutch glanced up at his partner.

“Look, G-man. That’s not gonna fly. Take him and I’ll sit out.” Starsky looked at him, expressionless, save his eyes, which were already starting to simmer with annoyance.

“No way, Hutch. He won’t be able to handle an actual auction and you know it. I’ve been able to secure a huge amount of cash and have social workers standing by. Other agents will case outside, tracking cars and will stop the buyers once they’ve driven off about a mile. If he insists, Starsky can be in the command center. This is the only way it’s gonna work and you know it. You’ve got to make him see that.”

“Alright. Where do we meet you?”

“We’ll have a briefing at an agent safe house on 43rd and Los Angeles Drive at 2300. The auction will happen in the valley at 0130.”

“OK, G-man. We’ll see you then.” Hutch hung up the phone. “Better put on something warmer buddy. It’s gonna be a long night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This set up fuckin’ stinks and you know it Hutch!” Starsky’s foot pushed hard on the accelerator. He always drove faster when he was mad.

“Starsk, he’s right. And what’s more, you know he’s right. You couldn’t even take looking at photos of those kids lined up. There’s no way you could keep your cool. No way.”

“Don’t tell me that! This ain’t about me. This is about you and Agent Hotpants going on op and leaving me behind. He had this set up from the beginning.”

“Starsky, pull over.”

“What?”

“I said pull over dammit!”

The Torino slowed and came to a stop along the curb. Hutch pulled Starsky’s right hand off the steering wheel and brought it down, sliding it between his gun and his ribcage, like Starsky had touched him just an hour ago. Starsk looked into those bright blue eyes he loved so much.

“This isn’t about G-man. It’s about you. He’s protecting you. And me. And the op. The way you feel about kids is one of the best things I love about you. Believe me; this is for your own good.”

Starsky pressed his fingers into Hutch’s flesh and nodded.

Slowly, he pulled his hand back, shifted into drive and guided the Torino back onto the road.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Starsky sat on his ass on the floor of a black van in the middle of nowhere. The command station was set up about half a mile from the old barn where this horror of an auction was going down. Since he had nothing to do, he just sat on the floor by the door while the FBI agents did their jobs.

He had to hand it to the feds. He was surrounded by some top-notch recording equipment. He didn’t think that tapes could come that small. They all had headsets, but they’d left a speaker on at Agent Carlson’s request. Starsk knew he’d done that for his sake, but it only made him loathe the man more at the moment. He didn’t need the pity of the man who strode off with his partner. Hutch had tried to give him a look as they left, but Starsky had avoided his eyes. He was being petty and he didn’t care.

“Say Ricky, check out the prick on that one.” Agent Carlson’s voice echoed through the van. One of the agent’s turned a knob, so when Hutch’s reply came, it wasn’t as loud.

“Ooooh, yeah Steve. I’d like to suck on that for a good long while.”

Starsky closed his eyes against the words, but found that only enabled him to imagine what was happening with greater clarity. He opened his eyes and looked up, watching the reflections of all the lights from the hi-tech equipment dance across the ceiling.

“Mr. Masters, I hope you are enjoying yourself tonight.” Came a deep voice Starsky didn’t recognize.

“Indeed.” Carlson said. “This is quite a collection. I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.”

“I’m Oscar Perry. Tonight’s auction is just one of my varied interests. My assistant tells me you’re looking to double your stable. Is that correct?”

“I am. I keep my boys at a little ranch near the Arizona border. You wouldn’t believe how far folks will drive to visit my place. But boys do grow up don’t they. Ricky here used to be one of my most requested ponies. He was so good, I just had to keep him around.” Starsk could hear the sound of the kiss Carlson must have placed on the side of Hutch’s neck. It was loud because the wire had been taped to the back of Hutch’s shirt collar.

“He looks very fine indeed Mr. Masters. Well, once everyone’s had a chance to examine the stock, we’ll start the bidding in a short while. Good night.”

Carlson’s voice came over the speaker, punctuated by kissing sounds. He was speaking into Hutch’s wire under the guise of making out. “Total of twenty-two boys. All bound with rope at hands and feet. Most look mal-nourished, but otherwise, not badly injured.”

“I make twelve pairs of buyers, not counting us.” Hutch’s voice now came through, but Starsky could hear a strain in it. He hoped it was from what he was seeing and not from barely controlled lust. “I also count six guns; two rifles and four sidearms.”

“That’ll just be inside. I bet there are twice that outside,” said one of the men standing in the van. He had been introduced to Starsky as the Special Agent in Charge. Didn’t these guys have first names?

“Alright gentlemen! Time to start the bidding!” The auctioneer’s voice tinned like it was coming from down a well.

In all, Carlson and Hutch were able to secure seven boys off the auction block. Seven out of twenty-two that were guaranteed their freedom. Starsky hoped that the feds were true to their word about being able to track down the others before the buyers got away with them. The boys were put into the Ford van they’d had an agent drive to site, pretending to be one of “Steve Master’s” goons. Hutch and Carlson were going to drive back to the command van in the fed’s ’67 Cobra. The tapes had been turned off, as had the speakers, before the agents had all left the van to start round-up. 

Starsky couldn’t help himself. He picked up one of the head-sets and flipped on the comm.

“You’d really never been kissed by a man before today?” Agent Carlson’s soft laughter filled his ear.

“Nope. If you hadn’t called, I think I would’ve been kissing Starsk before the night was over. I’m more of a slut as a queer than I was straight. Making out with two different guys in the same day.” Hutch’s voice was light and jovial.

“Aww, you’re gonna be a heart breaker, Hutch.”

“You can call me Ken.”

“OK, Ken. See, even your name is a turn on. Barbie never had it so good.”

“What’s yours?”

“My what?”

“Name. What’s your name?”

“I like it when you call me G-man.” Carlson laughed.

“No really. What is your name Special Agent Carlson?”

“Sorry, Ken. You don’t get to know that until I’m ready to tell it.”

“I can’t say that I like that answer.” Starsky could hear the suspicion in Hutch’s voice.

“Look, agents have lots of paths before them. I don’t know where my career could end up. My last name is pretty general. My first name isn’t. There are things I want to make sure can’t make my life harder later. It’s not personal.”

“What makes you think I would make your life harder?”

“Oh, Ken-doll, you already do.”

Starsky switched off the comm. He didn’t want to hear anymore. He just wanted Hutch back where he could see, smell and touch him. Zipping up his brown leather jacket and shoving his hands in his pockets, he opened the back door of the van and stepped outside into the cold desert night to wait.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Starsky pulled the Torino in front of Venice Place. It was almost dawn now and they were both quiet after having been up for nearly 24 hours.

“Why don’t you crash here? You look exhausted.” Hutch blinked slowly and covered a yawn.

“I’m better than you are Blintz. It’s OK, my place ain’t so far I’m apt to fall asleep at the wheel.”

“Come up anyway. I want you to.”

Starsky looked at his partner. He wanted nothing better than to fall into bed with this man and curl along side him as they slept. But he held back. He could still hear the echo of Agent Hotpants kissing that smooth, tan neck and it made his blood burn.

“I don’t know Hutch. Lot’s gone down in the last day. I need to think.”

Starsky turned away from the hurt in Hutch’s eyes. “You sure?”

“Not in slightest. I’d actually love nothing more than to fall asleep next to you. I’m just not so sure I should---Ken-doll”

Hutch spun towards him. “You were listening?! Was the whole command listening?”

Starsky looked down into his dashboard. “No. Just me. The other agents had all gone out to help process the kids as they arrived in. I—I didn’t mean to.”

“What? Did you trip over something? Carlson said it was SOP to turn off the wires once the op was over.”

“They did. I turned ‘em back on.”

“Why? Why did you do that? Do you really mistrust me that much?”

“Not you. I don’t trust him! He’s smooth, and good lookin’. Don’t tell me you don’t notice that because I can tell you do.”

“Goodnight Starsky.” Hutch was out of the Torino lightening fast, and the whole car shook as he slammed the door.

_You’re fucking brilliant Starsky._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_“Where’s Sugar tonight Bobby?” Hutch asked as he walked up to the bar at The Green Parrot._

_“She called in sick, but I think she just found a new toy she doesn’t wanna stop playing with.”_

_“Too bad. She puts on a great show.”_

_“Hey, would you be up for singing?”_

_“What do you pay?”_

_“Nothin’. But your drinks are free.”_

_“Alright. When Starsk gets here, let him know I’m in the back warming up.”_

_“Sure thing.”_

_“Hey Blondie.” Hutch turned to see Starsk and Agent Carlson enter the dressing room._

_“We came to help you warm up.” Carlson moved around to stand in front of Hutch, while Starsky moved to stand behind him._

_Hutch watched as the older man unzipped his pants and lifted his long, hard cock out and held it, stroking in slow, smooth movements. All Hutch wanted to do was put his mouth on it. As if in answer to his request, he felt a hand pushing on his back, bending him over, as another hand, a strong left hand, held his hips firmly in place._

_Balancing himself with his hands against Carlson’s thighs, he gingerly kissed the velvety tip._

_“Don’t be bashful, Ken-doll. Take it.”_

_Not needing to be told twice, he opened his mouth and slid his lips down over the rigid shaft. Carlson’s moan spurred him to keep sliding the man’s dick in and out of his wet lips._

_That’s when Hutch became aware of Starsky’s hands at his waist, unbuttoning his pants and sliding them down his thighs. The left had was stroking his own thick erection, with steady, firm strokes as the right hand traced up his hip and back across his ass. It left him for a moment as he heard the zipper of Starsky’s jeans go down and then felt the heavy weight of penis against his crack._

_Carlson was holding Hutch’s head now, rhythmically thrusting in and out of his mouth. He tried to stay focused on that task, but it was hard to do with Starsky stroking his dick with such precision and now he could feel his partner’s cock moving back and forth between is thighs, not penetrating, just sliding._

_Hutch suddenly wanted nothing more in the world than to have his partner inside him, but there was no way to say so, with his mouth full of Carlson’s cock and his own dick ready to explode._

_They moved together, like a brilliant trio that had played together for years, faster and harder until Hutch felt the stream of hot liquid fill his mouth. Carlson grunted, “Oh, Fuck yeah” and Hutch blew at the same moment that he felt Starsky’s wet cum spurt between his legs._

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hutch woke up to cold, sticky sheets. He hadn’t had a wet dream since he was in high school. _Not that my dreams then were ever that hot._

Rolling over, he looked at the clock. Eleven am. Six hours sleep was usually enough, but he almost felt more tired now than he had when he’d crashed into bed. He blinked his eyes and got up, willing his erection to go away so he could pee. 

As he was finishing, he heard a knock at his door. At first his heart jumped thinking it might be Starsky, but then remembered how they’d left it just a few hours ago. Plus, Starsk’d just unlock the door and come in.

“Who is it?”

“G-man”

Hutch smiled a little and opened the door.

“Well aren’t you just a ray of sunshine?” Agent Carlson strode in carrying a tray with three Styrofoam cups and white paper bag.

“I brought breakfast.” He smiled and once again, Hutch was caught up in the incredibly adorable dimples and sparkly green eyes.

“Where’s Starsky?”

“At home I expect.” Hutch couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice, but gratefully took the cup of coffee Carlson offered.

“What happened?”

“He listened to us in the car on the way back from the op.”

“Oh. All of it?” 

“I don’t know. He knew you’d called me Ken-doll.”

“Hmm. Well, it’s not like its not good info for him to have too.”

“I just didn’t want him to know I’d asked. There’s a part of me, maybe the romantic part that says he and I should be discovering all this together. Another part just wants to know what the hell I’m doing.”

“The romance is the part you will discover together. Gay relationships aren’t any different than straight ones in that way. You’ll love, you’ll argue, you’ll make-up. The sex piece is unfamiliar. And it will be better if you know what you’re doing.”

“It’s just a bit embarrassing to think he heard me asking those questions and getting a quick course in gay sex ed.”

“I remember my dad, when he tried to give me ‘The Talk’, though about straight sex, I told him I didn’t want to talk to him about it. He said, ‘Good. If you’re not ready to talk about it, you’re not ready to do it.’ Was actually kinda crap advice because when I was ready, I still didn’t want to talk to him. By that point I was so confused about who I was and what that meant. Anyway, if you can’t talk to Starsky about it, how do you expect to navigate doing it with him?”

“Maybe they do train you Feds better than us street cops.” Hutch smiled at him.

“No way Ken-doll. I’m just naturally brilliant.”

 _Dimples for days._ Hutch wondered if Carlson knew how mesmerizing they were.

“You need to get your partner over here. We’ve found a way to kick this operation into high gear. Plus my superior isn’t anxious to let Oscar Perry have the people’s money for too long before we take it back.”

“You call Starsk. I need to take a shower and I’m not sure I could get him over here without having a bit of a go-round with him on the phone. It’ll be faster this way.”

“Sure thing. Sorry I can’t help you.”

“I’ve been showering on my own for a long time, G-man” Hutch smiled.

“I meant with Starsky, but I like how your brain works.” Agent Carlson blatantly looked up and down Hutch’s body, making him blush.

“I’ll just-uh-I’m---yeah.” Hutch stammered as he went into his bathroom and shut the door against Agent Carlson’s laughter. It was so wonderful to flirt with this man, but he felt a twinge of guilt. There would be a time, he hoped, when he would be able to flirt that openly with Starsky. They just had to get through this op first.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The three men sat around Hutch’s kitchen table, a map laid out and Hutch was taking some notes on the small pad he usually kept in his pocket.

“Starsky, you and I will meet Perry at his house here. Hutch, I’m gonna have you go to the stable building. I’ve been able to convince him that I want 20 more boys and a piece of the auction take for all future sales in exchange for smuggler’s run sources out of Mexico. You’re supposed to be checking out the stock of what is there, and then give a price. Get as much layout detail as you can. Agents will raid tonight, just before dawn.”

“Wouldn’t it be better for me to go with Hutch? I’m not gonna be much help to your negations with Perry.”

Agent Carlson saw through what Starsky was trying to do, but opted to ignore it. “I need you with me for muscle. Perry’s style is to bully. I want him to focus on you, so he can’t try it with me. Basically, I need you to be the bad cop. Unless, you don’t think your partner can handle it on his own?”

Starsky moved his eyes from Carlson to Hutch and back. The FBI agent had caught him in a trap but good.

“One condition.” Starsky held the man’s green eyes firm.

“What?”

“I get to drive the Cobra.”

Hutch burst out laughing, and Agent Carlson chuckled in spite of himself. Starsky just smirked.

“Alright, Detective, can’t blame you. She’s a sweet ride.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Starsky sat on the veranda of Perry’s house. Looking around, you’d think this man had plucked up an old Georgia plantation and dropped it in the Southern California desert. The watering system must be amazing given how lush and green the lawns were. He’d unbuttoned his shirt almost all the way, both in reaction to the heat and to be a bit more provocative. Hutch wasn’t the only one who knew how to draw an eye.

Oscar Perry was sipping a tall mojito, while Starsk nursed a beer and the fed had asked for a wine spritzer. Starsky knew the other men regarded his drink choice with some derision, at least Agent Carlson had. He was fine with that though. Nice thing about dark bottles was that no one could tell how much you had, or had not, drunk. Plus, he was supposed to be there for his brawn, not his brains or high class.

“That many ponies will take a while to collect Mr. Masters.” Perry was about to jack up the price and both lawmen glanced at each other.

“I’m sure you can tap into the resources of your network. It’s not like you’ll need to go the source.” Agent Carlson was gunning for Perry to have to talk about the overseas segment of this evil business, but Starsk didn’t think it would work.

“If you’re impatient, I have enough in my own stable, but they’ll cost you.”

 _You walked into that one, Fed_ Starsky watched Carlson’s face carefully. The agent glanced at him quickly, mild annoyance in his eyes.

_Damn right you’re dumb. Your good looks and charm aren’t going to get you everywhere._

“Mr. Perry, your stable is fine, I’m sure. But our clients aren’t interested in ones that are old or been run hard.” Starsky spoke up, holding Perry’s eyes and then winked at the man. As Oscar’s eyes roved over Starsky, he shifted so that his shirt opened up more and he flexed his pectorals slightly, causing the old geezer to have a sudden intake of breath.

“My manager is correct of course.” Carlson interrupted. “I’m not impatient when it comes to fine stock. In fact, I’d be rather interested in learning more about your acquisition process.”

“It will cost you, Mr. Masters. At least one million.”

Starsky slowly scratched his belly and casually unbuttoned the last button holding his shirt together, drawing Perry’s eye once again. “Are you bringing them off Olympus itself? You must be for fifty thou a pop.” Starsky enjoyed being able to keep the old man off-balance. 

Agent Carlson was wondering what had made Starsky suddenly so aggressive about flaunting his body, but he wanted to get the deal made, so he let the Detective continue to lead.

“One million will be fine, provided I get inside. I want pick of the litters.”

“Of course.” Perry was still perusing Starsky with his eyes and Agent Carlson realized that Starsk was resting his hands in his waistband, effectively pushing the denim cutoffs he wore lower down.

“Wayne. Wayne!”

Starsky very slowly looked over at the fed.

“Why don’t we get Ricky and head home?”

“Whatever you say boss. Very nice to have met you Oscar.” Starsky stood, then leaned over and spoke directly into Perry’s ear. “It’s been a pleasure.” Pulling back, he winked at the old man, whose lustful eyes then followed the pair as they walked down the expanse of steps.

“Y’know, I can think of someone who might not have enjoyed that display back there.” Agent Carlson spoke low as the neared the car.

“Then you’re an idiot, Fed. Sooner or later, you’re gonna get wise to the fact that there really ain’t much new under the sun for me and Hutch. The greatest weapon we have in our arsenal is each other.”

“I’d be lying if I didn’t say you two make me a bit jealous. Give me the keys.”

“Uh-uh. This baby moves too well. B‘sides, I make a terrible passenger”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hutch hated walking through the old barn. The boys were kept two to a stall, each having a small cot, blankets, and two ‘O’ rings bolted to the walls through which each kid was tethered. It was all he could do to keep from vomiting and was so happy Starsky wasn’t here. As it was, he got through it was by constantly reminding himself that the raid would be happening in just a few hours. 

He’d been taking pictures using the tiny camera Agent Carlson had given him and trying to mentally note everything he saw. 

At the end of the long barn, there was a newer building with a heavy metal door. Looking around, he tried the knob. It was locked, but then he noticed there was a dark, maroon substance dried on the frame. Hutch had been to enough murder scenes to recognize blood when he saw it. Taking out a few picks he always carried in his wallet, he went to work on the lock. Finally the pins gave and he heard a click. Opening the door, he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The sight before him was so gruesome, he started to retch. Shackles, cattle prods, scalpels, wires attached to car batteries. He was about to pull out the camera when he was hit from behind with something heavy. He fell to the ground, stunned, but not out. Rolling over, he saw the shadow of someone towering over him.

He heard the hiss of electricity first, then felt the shocking fire of pain hit his testicles before blacking out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Starsky spun around the corner of the barn in the Cobra with great speed, marveling at the handling of the car compared to his Torino. No fishtailing or having Agent Carlson to fly into his lap the way Hutch did when he took a corner. He could get used to driving one of these, but his car was a part of him. He could no more change cars than he could change partners.

“Fucking Christ!” Agent Carlson yelled as the car came to a stop. Starsky was about to throw it into reverse and give the fed something to really curse about when he saw what the other man had. The door to some outbuilding of the barn was open and one of Perry’s goons was taking a cattle prod the balls of some guy on the ground.

Carlson was out the door of the car and half a beat later, Starsky realized that it was Hutch on the ground. 

The federal agent had his gun drawn but just rammed his body into the goon, knocking him down and started pistol-whipping the man’s head and torso.

Starsky ran to Hutch’s limp form, checking for a pulse. Finding one, he immediately started looking for other damage. 

“We gotta get him out of here.” Agent Carlson said breathlessly as he re-holstered his piece. Starsky glanced over and saw that the goon was lying unconscious on the ground, blood all over his face.

Picking up Hutch in his arms, Starsky carried him back to the tiny car. He now wished they’d brought the Torino. 

“Give him to me.” Agent Carlson was pulling the door wider open. Starsky gave him a _like hell,_ look. “I’ll put him on your lap after you get in, but we have to fuckin’ move!”

“There’s a small hospital about 4 miles north.” Agent Carlson was glancing constantly in the rear view once they were driving back up the mountain road.

“No hospital. Just take us back to my place.” Starsky was gently patting Hutch’s face, trying to get him to wake up.

“He could be seriously hurt Detective. He needs a doctor.” Agent Carlson was being very commanding but Starsk was having none of it.

“No dammit! Hutch and I have bad experiences with hospitals. He’ll see a doctor, but he’ll be at my place. You might run the op, but when it comes to my partner, what I say goes. Shut up and drive.”

Agent Carlson did just that, although begrudgingly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Starsky stood in the doorway to his bedroom watching Dr. Mason finish putting her things back in her small black bag. 

“Thanks for coming Doc.” Starsky smiled at her.

“You guys are the only house calls I make.” She walked over to him, handing him a small plastic bottle. “I just wish you didn’t keep needing my services. He’ll be OK. Give him one of those every 6 hours.”

Starsky looked at the hand-written sticker on the bottle. “Ibrepenny?”

“Ibuprofen. It’s a pain killer.” Starsky looked hard at her. “Relax, it’s not a narcotic, so there’s no chance of addiction. It’s like Tylenol, but has anti-inflammatory properties. It’s by prescription because it’s new. Drug companies are hoping to make it available over the counter soon.” She rested her hand on his elbow and squeezed. Then she opened her bag again and pulled out a small tube.

“I almost forgot. Give him this for the burns on his scrotum. It’s aloe with a mild antibiotic.”

Starsky wrapped her up in a tight hug. “Thanks for coming over Sammie. Give Jackson a hug for us.”

“Sure thing Dave. And really, don’t worry. Call me if you need anything.”

“Pleasure meeting you.” She waved toward the older man sitting at Starsky’s kitchen table and left; Starsky closing the door behind her.

“You got your own pretty lady doc on retainer?” Carlson asked as he watched Starsky move to the fridge.

“If you ever worked the street like a real cop, you’d know how to make friends too.” Starsky pulled a couple beers out, handing one to Carlson.

“Why’d she tell you the meds weren’t narcotics?” Starsky looked at the man, then away, leaving the question unanswered.

“Is there anything you wouldn’t do to protect him?” Carlson asked, understanding that Starsky wasn’t going to be as free with old stories as Hutch might have been.

“No.”

“Good. He deserves that.”

“You givin’ your permission Pops? ‘Cause I’m not lookin’ for it.”

“It might come as a surprise to you Detective, but as much as I’m fond of Ken, I’ve got my own… partners.” Agent Carlson let that sink in a bit before he continued. “Ken knows who he is and who he wants. Can you say the same?”

Starsky looked over at his bedroom. “Yeah, I can. I’m ready.”

“Great.” The agent finished off his beer and stood up. “I have a raid to run. It’s a good thing that sadistic fuck was so busy with his prod he never found the camera in Ken’s pocket. I’ll check in with you tomorrow. Give Ken a kiss for me when he wakes up.” Starsky jerked his head up to look at the agent.

“It’s about time, don’t you think Detective?” Agent Carlson laughed and for the first time Starsky appreciated the beauty of the man’s features.

“Later, Fed,” Starsky called after the man as he shut the front door.

“Starsk?” Hutch’s voice called from the bedroom. Starsky was in the room like a shot.

“How ya feelin’?” He asked as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Like someone dipped my nuts in battery acid.” Hutch licked his lips and Starsky handed him the glass of water he’d left on the night stand for when his partner woke up.

“Close enough. One of Perry’s bastards decided to pretend you were a bull refusing to go to slaughter. Went after you with a cattle prod.” Just talking about it made his own balls ache in sympathy.

“They torture them Starsk. The smell of that room…”

“Hey, hey, calm down. Agent Hotpants just left to go run the raid. We’re done. We get to be back at Metro tomorrow. Though Cap’n said we could have few days off if we want ‘em.”

Hutch put his water glass down and leaned back against the pillow. “Yeah, I think I could use a break.”

Starsky ran his hand gently through the soft, blond hair. “Agent Carlson said to give you somethin’.”

“Oh, yeah? What?”

Leaning forward, Starsky let his face hover over his partner for just a moment before gently touching his lips to Hutch’s. Hutch reached up, weaving his hand in dark curls and pulled Starsky deeper into a kiss that sent ripples through his body. His groin tightened and he winced in pain.

Starsk broke the kiss and looked worryingly into his partner’s face. “You’re still hurting. This can wait. Let me get the pills Sammie left for you.” He started to rise off the bed but Hutch grabbed his arm.

“I don’t need pills. Just come lay down with me, OK? I want you near me.”

“Sure, babe.” Starsky walked around to the other side of the bed. He kicked off his shoes, pulled down his cut-offs and removed his socks. He’d forgotten that he’d gone commando to help him get into the groove of his cover. He glanced at Hutch, who was looking at him approvingly.

“You bring me the nicest toys.” Hutch rolled towards him as Starsk climbed under the covers. Starsky pulled him close, wrapping his arms around the strong, muscled shoulders he depended on so much.

“I’m not so sure you should be playing with your toys right now. You looked at yourself yet?” 

“No, but don’t really want to. Hurts like hell.”

Starsk reached above his head and flipped on the radio that sat on the shelf behind his bed, Iron Butterfly filled the room.

“Not exactly mood music there Starsk.”

He shrugged. “Depends on the mood you want. Right now, I’ve got my arms around the one I love most in this world and I’m praying like hell that Agent Carlson gets all those poor kids out tonight. I’d say _Lonely Boy_ fits pretty well, actually.”

Hutch snuggled into the warm arms around him, relishing the feel of his cheek against Starsky’s chest and the immense feeling of safety that filled him. “I was wrong. This is the perfect song.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“If Sammie says to use it, you’ll use it.”

“I don’t have a problem using it; I’m just going to put it on myself.”

“Spoilsport.” Starsky tossed the tube at Hutch.

“Hey, Gordo, I’m President of the You-Touching-My-Junk Fan Club. Just not right now. And that’s killing me more than it’s killing you.”

Knocking at the door cut Starsky off from replying.

“Well if it isn’t Agent Hotpants.” Starsky announced as he opened the door.

The FBI man stared him down. “Don’t ever call me that again.” Starsky’s eyebrows wiggled slightly, daring the fed to try and stop him.

“Ken-doll, how do you put up with this clod?” He called as he pushed past Starsky into the bedroom.

“It isn’t easy, but we all have our crosses to bear.”

Carlson walked over and stood beside the bed where Hutch was sprawled. “You look much better than you did yesterday.”

“Yeah, well if I could get a ball-transplant, I’d perfect.” He slid his legs over to make room for the agent to sit down on the bed.

“Here you go.” Starsky quickly dumped the laundry off a chair that sat by his closet and moved it over for Agent Carlson to sit in. Hutch smiled at the obviousness of the move, but slid his legs back and waved for Carlson to sit down on the chair. Carlson looked amusingly at both men and nodded as he sat down.

Starsky then climbed on the bed next to Hutch, sitting with his back against the headboard. For good measure, he wove his fingers in Hutch’s and held his hand against his thigh.

“We got 19 kids out last night, and arrested Perry on kidnapping charges. The good news is that the guy was a very meticulous business man. We found records, even receipts for all his auctions, along with contact names, ports of intake…best of all, the photo’s Hutch took gave us strong probable cause for the warrant, which is the first thing the lawyer is going to try to invalidate. It’s the most solid case I’ve ever closed. Would take a pretty lousy lawyer to not get a conviction.”

“Well, you’ll have to forgive me, but I’ve seen rock-solid cases wash away before.” Starsky’s voice was deep and low, which Hutch knew meant he was struggling with his emotions.

“That’s the nice part about federal court. Our judges are much harder to push over.” Starsky squeezed Hutch’s hand has he remembered their dealings with a federal judge that had led them to toss their badges into the Pacific, but said nothing.

Hutch smiled at the agent. “It was great working with you.”

“Detective Starsky, could you give us a moment?”

Hutch gently rubbed Starsky’s hand on his thigh and looked at his partner. Starsky nodded and got up.

“I’ll run down to the corner and get us some coffee.”

After they heard the front door close, Agent Carlson smiled at Hutch, flashing those dimples and Hutch noticed that their effect on him had lessened.

“He loves you quite a bit.”

“I know.” Hutch knew he was grinning like a fool, but couldn’t help himself.

“I’m going back to Quantico for a debrief and the agency has decided to have me teach for a while.”

Hutch’s brows furrowed. “Is that a good thing?” Getting pulled from operations sounded like a punishment to him.

“I’m choosing to see it that way. The Special Agent in Charge said some of the other agents thought I was too good at my cover and I think this is his way of protecting me. It’s OK though. I think I’d be a good teacher”

Hutch laid his hand on the man’s leg and Carlson held it. “You’ll make a great teacher.” But he couldn’t help feeling sad for his friend too.

“Thank-you. Maybe some day men will be able to be officers and gay at the same time. Until then, be careful. Both of you.”

“We will.”

Agent Carlson stood up. “I better get going. I still have to pack up my LA apartment.”

“Don’t you want to wait for Starsk to get back?”

“No. I don’t think he’s going to miss saying good-bye to me.” Agent Carlson leaned over and softly kissed Hutch on the lips, and then whispered into his ear, “My name’s Gunnar.”

“So you really are a G-man” Hutch grinned.

“That’s what my mom calls me too.”

“Drive safe Gunnar.”

“I will Ken. See you around.”

He winked, flashed a quick smile and walked out.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Y’know Starsk, we’ve never talked about that night after the auction.”

Starsky was lazily tracing the ab muscle lines on Hutch’s belly with his fingers as he laid next him on the bed while Hutch ate the bagel he’d brought him from the deli.

“I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t have invaded your privacy.”

“How much did you hear?”

“Hmm? I don’t know. I turned it off after he called you that stupid nickname.”

Hutch had kinda liked it, but was smart enough not to say so.

“So you didn’t hear anything that came after that?”

Starsky knew Hutch was fishing now. “Why? What did you say?”

“I, uh, well, it was more what I asked.”

His attention fully captured, Starsky sat up a little so he could look into Hutch’s eyes. “Asked? What’d you ask?”

“Well, he’d called us green remember? I, um, I didn’t want to be green anymore.”

Jealousy reared inside of Starsky like a viper ready to strike. “How exactly were you planning on him helping you with that?”

“Relax, buddy. Not like that. Geeze, you’re easy to rile now. I just wanted to know more about how to---y’know. So I asked someone who wasn’t—green.”

“You asked him how to have gay sex?”

“You always did get straight to the point. Yes, I asked him that. It was like going to a big brother for pointers. Didn’t Nicky ever come to you with questions about sex?”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t exactly helpful. I told him that if he gave his balls a hard squeeze right before he entered a girl, he’d last longer.”

Hutch exploded with laughter. “You’re a real asshole, Starsk.”

Laughing hard now too, Starsky added, “I never asked him if he tried it.”

Hutch could barely talk now, “If he did, it was only once.”

“I don’t know. Nicky’s not exactly known for his brains.”

“I think that’s pretty much a Starsky family curse.”

Still laughing, Starsky tackled Hutch against the bed, laying on top of him. Their laughter died as they looked at one another.

“He was really nice about it Starsk.” Hutch reached up and ran his fingers along his partner’s cheek. “I think you’d like G-man if you tried to.”

“He’s not all bad. In fact, I like him great now that he’s goin’ to DC. Love him in DC. But you know what I love most?”

“What?”

“You.” Their kisses were natural now, but still sent shivers through their bodies. 

Starsky moved his lips down the tan neck he loved so much as he pulled up the hem of Hutch’s shirt, sliding his hands under and up the smooth skin of his chest.

Arching his back off the mattress, Hutch let his shirt be pulled off over his head, bringing his hands down around Starsk’s neck, then slid down the strong back, sinking deeper from the weight of the man on top of him.

“Ahh, don’t tease me with those light touches, babe.” and he rocked his hips into Hutch’s, thrusting the tip of his cock forward. Hutch brought his hand between them and Starsky rolled onto his side. The hand slid into the waist of his sweatpants, gripping his elongated shaft, stroking up and down.

“That’s good, ohhh.” He moaned into Hutch’s neck as he nuzzled and suckled lightly.

“You don’t have to be afraid to touch me Starsk.”

“Hmmm” He was enjoying the feel of the strong hand on him, but also longed to feel Hutch’s cock in his own hand. “You sure I won’t hurt ya?”

“If you do, I’ll let you know.” Hutch started kissing him again.

The pressure was building, but Starsky didn’t want to come just yet, so he rolled back towards Hutch, trapping the man’s hand between them, trailing kisses down to the small, tight nipple, pausing to give it attention. Hutch moaned loudly and stretched. He let go reticently of the hard phallus, understanding what his lover was doing

Sliding his hips further down the bed, Starsky continued to kiss and nip his way down Hutch’s torso until he reached his belly button. He could feel the tip of Hutch’s penis brushing against the edge of his jaw as he focused on kissing and sucking the man’s navel, like it was the most erotic part of his body. Hutch writhed, trying to brush his dick along the rough stubble on Starsky’s face. 

“The more you try to rush me, Blintz, the longer you’re gonna have to wait.” Starsky spoke between kisses and sucks.

“You’re a fucking tease, you know that.”

Starsky blew a cool wind on the tip of the penis that was tapping at his jaw, begging for entrance.

“You got no idea.” Grabbing the base of Hutch’s cock to hold it still, Starsky trailed his nose from base to tip, purposefully not touching it with his lips. He swirled the tip lightly, taking in Hutch’s scent. He felt Hutch trying to thrust up, but held him firm. He looked up at his partner’s face. Hutch was looking down at him with a lust he’d never seen before on anyone.

“Starsk, I’m not sure how much more I can take. I’m on the verge of not being’ passive here partner, so do something or I’m taking over.”

Smiling at him, Starsky turned his face away and wrapped his mouth just over the head and sucked gently. He heard a sharp hiss as Hutch breathed in and felt great satisfaction at the sound. Widening his mouth he took in more until he could feel it hit the back of his throat. He fought the gag reflex and slid his mouth back off and then down again quickly.

Fighting the urge to fondle the bruised testicles that nudged against his hand, he tightened his grip at the base of Hutch’s shaft, eliciting another moan from his partner. Spurred on by the sounds that were like music in his ears and the more intense shifts and thrust coming from Hutch’s hips, he increased the pace of his movements.

“Oh, Starsk, that’s so…Oh God!” The pressure was so intense he was begging for the release to come or he thought he might pass out. Starsky tightened his lips as the pulled up in a long, hard glide, followed by his hand and the explosion rocked through Hutch as he arched off the bed. Starsky locked his mouth around the tip of Hutch’s penis as he milked all the juice out. Hutch couldn’t believe the ripples that washed through him as he rode out the orgasm, still feeling Starsky holding and stroking him. No woman had ever done that before.

Climbing backup the bed, Starsky just marveled at the beauty of Hutch’s face in that moment. Knowing he’d put that expression on his face.

“Starsk, I’ve never had…How did you do that?” He panted.

“Just did the things I like.” He shrugged. “You can make stuff way more complicated than it has to be y’know.” He kissed his partner lightly.

“I’m going to love discovering these things with you, Babe.” Hutch smiled and ran his fingers through the dark curls he loved so much.”

“Hmm, yeah.” Starsky laid his head on Hutch’s chest.

“Hutch?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m thinkin’ that gay prostitution is a real problem in this city.”

“Oh yeah? You think we should talk to Dobey about making that a department priority?”

“We could set up an op that would take, two, maybe three months to run.”

Hutch laughed lightly. “That’s gonna make us some good friends in the gay scene.”

“What’re you talking about? Every bar we go into, they love us.”

“They love me. You bust their ass.”

“I’d love to bust yours. C’mon Blintz, tell me all about what Agent Hotpants taught you.”

“I’d rather show you,” Hutch said as he rolled on top of his partner in life, as well as on the job. “My turn to make you moan.”


End file.
